


You Who Dreamt (Upon) The Dust

by Rokko Hera (Regina_Hark)



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Crack, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sharing a Bed, rare parings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 20:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1792033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regina_Hark/pseuds/Rokko%20Hera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vaan and Vayne, through circumstance, (Vaan lying through his teeth and Vayne mostly humoring or waiting for him to slip up) have come to a rather platonic (co-dependent) friendship (hostage situation) as exaggerated rumors spill out of proportion in the wonderful city of Rabanastre.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Who Dreamt (Upon) The Dust

**Author's Note:**

> Edited: 8/28/16  
> Originally Posted: 6/16/14

When Vaan wakes the first time (but not really), the thief doesn’t register the strange shifting in the sheets. Unfamiliar hands, gentle and warm, pulling him closer. The oddness of someone curling around his wiry frame. Bigger. Broader. Soft in an unfamiliar way. They’re embracing, Vaan thinks. Arms tight around his waist. A face in his bushy locks. Sniffing. Sighing. It’s all too pleasant for him to fight against. Vaan tries to think. Vaan tries to think hard. But. (And always but.) Thinking gives to breathing. Breathing gives into dozing.

Sweet. Warm. Soft.

The feel of everything around Vaan. He’s floating, drifting freely along the line of awareness and dreams. His body solidly held by something, possibly a someone, unknown. It’s so strange. It’s so different. Vaan wants to (not think at all but)- Something almost shakes him awake. A faint thought. A faint and fuzzy, ‘hadn’t he been doing something important tonight? Like something of the awesome kind of important?’ The persistent half-thought, half-nothing (sleep, dammit!) sinks into the comfortable layer of denial that Vaan tries to snuggle into.

Images hit him all at once.

A fancy stone. Fellow thieves chasing after him. A dresser. A bedroom he snuck in. But after that, it’s all snores. Mostly his own. But why would his mind want him to remember these things? It’s so unimportant that Vaan turns over. So, so unimportant that he turns over again.

It’s unpleasantly and undeniable unimportant (but yet)…

Something brushes over him. A hand? A sheet? A pillow case? It didn’t matter. Anything distracting will do. Vaan takes his chance for more denial, sticking his face into a neck. Or something that feels like one. It’s warm. The scents of good soap and floral water and rich sheets tease Vaan’s nose.

This has to be a dream. It could never smell so nice in Lowtown.

He should open his eyes. He should do something other than lay here. But (and this must be the better option), he rubs his face in deeper and breathes out a sigh of his own. Sleep comes without question right after.

* * *

 

The second time Vaan wakes, he can make out the blue light of the early morning.

Which is pretty unusual seeing that he sleeps underground.

But that little simple fact isn’t enough to jog Vaan into a panic. Sure, Lowtown sucked all round. Smelly pipes. Crappy homes. Lousy views. But there was always some sunlight in the courtyard of the Northern Sprawl. One of the best spots to sleep to be honest. Plenty of escape routes. People ready to vouch, “No sir. I did not see the blond thief come this way.”

And obviously, he must be sleeping in the courtyard now! It makes perfect sense.

Vaan probably moved his cot out here after celebrating. After all, he did steal that thing. Huh? Vaan frowns. Thing…? What is that thing? Could it have been an important thing? His mind throws those same images back at him. But you know, they don’t ring a bell. Other thieves? A stone? Just how is he suppose to solve this with just that?

The thief’s brain slowly starts up. The answers he should know with a snap of his amazing mental skills aren’t coming in as fast as he would like.

So from the top. Umm… Didn’t he get advice from Old Dalan on how to sneak into… Er, something important? The place with the guards. Not that knowing this helpful. The place could be anywhere in Rabanastre. But if Vaan had to ask Old Dalan, it had to be something good.

Come on, think. Think!

Fuck.

He’s got nothing. Forget the stupid train of thought. But he did steal _something_ , right? That’s the important part. He stole something good. Better than good. Something awesome.

The thief sits up. Pinches himself.

Yup, he’s awake, alive -Vaan takes a quick glance around- not in a dungeon. Fuck yeah!

The thief lays right back down and something pulls him against the ridiculously nice, inhaling and exhaling, pillow. God, Vaan hopes he didn’t waste money on something that could be snatched after he put his cot away. He couldn’t haul around a new pillow all day.

That wouldn’t be good for his reputation. An alley-owning petty thief.

Okay, not that cool.

Hell, maybe the pillow would give his street cred a boost.

With the dawn’s light invading the crook of wherever he decided to sleep for the night, Vaan finally gets a good look to where he’s at. But getting a bearing on his surroundings goes to the back burner when Vaan sees a new arm over his shoulder. Then thick sheets he couldn’t recall putting on his cot.

And yeah. Poking it. Examining it. That’s an arm not his.

But it wouldn’t be the first time he shared his cot. Because of the usual; nightmares or missing cots or fresh orphans or slumber parties because the monster in the sewers decided to attack each other and nobody was safe sleeping along. He’s the unofficial big brother of everybody in Lowtown. Penelo got them during the day but Vaan was left with them in the long night.

Someone sighs. Makes a sound of contentment. A strange noise to be heard in Lowtown.

And stranger still, the cot shifts.

Now, this might sound crazy, but cots don’t shift. They’re not that big to lay on and Vaan’s was an old one. Weak with rusty stands quick to snap together under his weight and crash to the ground.

So where exactly-

Someone snuggles into his hair, rubbing that one spot just above his ear and Vaan’s out like a light.

* * *

 

And the third time Vaan wakes, his head is resting on a lap. Legs entangled into velvety sheets. He blinks blearily at the… man... with his brown shoulder-length hair. His dark curls held back in a low ponytail. Vaan blinks once, twice, then freezes.

It all comes rushing back to him.

He broke into the palace during the fete. Stole some nice-looking loot and nearly was caught by that fancy guy and that bunny lady. Wait… He did get caught. Shitty rebels fighting against shittier imperials. Vaan could care less about who won but there was an airship just bombing everybody nearby. And the thief was running and running… There was a hover bike somewhere in all that running but he’d been…. Dropped. Yeah. The fancy guy lost his grip. Shit.

“Hello, uh, my good Lord Consul,” Vaan stutters. What would Migelo say. Fuck. He’s going to the Nalbina dungeons! “I- I… Work. I worked for-”

But how did he survive that fall? And isn’t this the bed of Vayne, Imperial Invader?!

Said scum of the earth hums. Rifling though his papers. Vayne’s head nodding along in a ‘I’m totally not listening to you,’ way. While Vaan is dragging out his execution, “Trust me, I worked for someone, uh-” he can’t help but- Okay, Vaan’s outright checking the weirdo out. Because this was weird.

Vayne’s twice his size.

Wide shoulders. Scarred fists. His shape and build, despite the frilly-looking shirt and the frillier-looking hair, screamed soldier.

“I do not care nor need who you worked for.”

Was that a threat? Vaan gulps, his throat running dry. After all, the consul had just said, ‘worked for.’ He tries to sit up, tucking his legs for a speedy escape but Vayne pushes him back down.

“Though I have not partook in the trade that you deal in, I am aware of the tricks that are employed. I need not a distraction today. There’s much paperwork to be looked over and arrangement for prisoners to be dealt with.”

“Right,” Because, what else could he say? “Yes, Lord Consul. I will… uh… go and be a distraction somewhere else until you need me.” Vaan sits up very slowly, his back stiff as he keeps all eyes on Vayne. He cautiously makes a move to the left-side of this large fancy bed. He doesn’t get that far. The consul reels out his long, dumb arms and pulls Vaan back to his side.

“You’re distracting me.” He sounds almost pleased and god, does that pisses Vaan so much so that he forgets that he’s about to be sentenced to Nalbina or worse, a public execution from stealing directly from the palace’s treasury.

“Do you normally do your paperwork in bed? What did you think was going to happen when I woke up. Here I am, being generous, leaving when really you should.” Vaan sneers, sticking his face into Vayne’s personal space. Instinctive hate for Imperials wins every time. “Either you leave or I will, Looorrd Consuul.”

“Acting passive-aggressive doesn’t suit your looks,” Vayne remarks and nudges Vaan’s face away with his stack of papers before putting them on a side table next to the bed. “Do you wish for me to play with you? You want my attention that badly?”

Huh? That sounded really weird.

Vayne moves quickly. Gently. Nudging Vaan onto his back and perching above him. Vayne’s ponytail hangs over his shoulder and tickles the side of Vaan’s face. The thief can’t breathe. He’s too busy hallucinating what is happening. The simplicity of the movement. Heat meeting heat. Touch meeting touch. He should be scared, and he is, his brain is hitting all of the panic buttons, but not of this.

Not of the man he cuddled in the night. And god, that was so fucking insane, he’ll need therapy-

Vayne thumbs and tilts Vaan’s neck. His deadly fingers tender. His eyes searching. Shit. Shit. Shit. He lays his face between the bed and Vaan’s easy-to-snap neck. And that is what Vaan cannot ever forget. His heart picks up. A sweat breaks out. Of all the bucket-heads and imperials Vaan’s had to deal with, Vayne is the absolute worse. The fucker’s stealing things from him. His diginity. His common sense.

“I’m not sure whether to be insulted or amused by your presence,” Vayne whispers, his hot breath causing shivers and goosebumps across Vaan’s skin. Meanwhile, Vaan’s mind has left the building and can now only articulate in shrieks, fucks and damns.

“I have no need for a lover to warm my bed though I can now see the sentiment in acquiring one. Last night was quite… sensual.”

What! Did this sick freak have his way with his unconscious body? What about marriage? What about all his firsts he’d never cared much about until now. No one. No one in Dalmasca would give him the time of day now! Him taken (like a country lass) by Imperial scum! Oh, he’s so filthy now.

Vayne continues, oblivious to Vaan’s justified mental panic. “But, I still have no need for a lover and I would like to encourage you not to try.”

“We didn’t sleep together?”

Crisis averted.

“Are you used to others taking you in your slumber? No, I did not sleep with you. I would have removed from you from my quarters and had you dismissed back from whatever brothel you hail from. But you are very, very affectionate in your sleep.” Vayne pauses and reaches out a hand to pat Vaan’s head. “You were determined to have me in bed and I wasn’t in the mood to bother disobeying. It was,” he chuckles. "amusing."

Vayne settles on top of him, resting his weight around Vaan’s lower chest. He sneaks an arm around the thief’s back. Vaan still waiting for the other shoe the drop. You know. When the sky starts raining bunnies and Penelo comes in dressed as Reks and it’s like what. Dream logic. But that doesn’t happen. Vayne’s still over him. Warm. Soft. Familiar in an unfamiliar way.

Who knew what the hell was going on but apparently he’s an escort.

What would a worker of the night do in this kind of situation?

Well… What did they do all last night?

Cuddle?

And cuddling is about doing what’s natural, right? That’s simple enough.

Vaan stretches his neck even further. Lifts his legs to wrap around Vayne’s waist and tugs the consul’s ponytail free. It’s been bothering him. Hair that poofy kept together by a tie. Hair like a lion’s mane, Vayne’s dark locks prowls across Vaan’s desert skin. The consul sighs against his neck. Lips dragging against the skin and making Vaan, manly Vaan, squeak.

Vayne freezes at the sound.

“Have I hurt you?”

And that’s a weird, weird thing to ask from someone who’s apparently used to having strangers in his bed.

“No.” Vaan stutters. “I uh- You uh-” Why can’t he just say it? “You kinda kissed me?”

Vayne lifts his head. “Did I?”

“Kinda.” Vaan inches out. “Indirectly.”

“Apologies.”

For someone so elegant at speaking, Vayne loves using only one word answers. And again, this is weird as fuck. Vaan’s trying not to relax. Trying to not get comfortable with this Imperial asshole around him. But it’s hard to remember, yup, this is the guy who fucked every single Dalmascan over. When. You know. The man is outright trying to snuggle him into submission. And outside the accidental smooch, Vayne hasn’t made any strange moves.

Vayne keeps on adjusting their position until somehow Vaan is sitting on top.

The view is nice. The feel of Vayne’s large chest. Muscles hard and firm. Scars lining the pale skin. And fuck, why did this guy have to be another Imperial asshole? If Vayne had been a nobody, then yeah, it’d be okay for Vaan to ogle the man’s frame and looks. But not just an Imperial asshole, he’s one of the responsible assholes who, again, fucked every single Dalmascan over. He can’t. He won’t just-

Vayne nuzzles his hair, hitting that sweet spot all over again. Ah fuck.

The thief spreads like a cat. Limbs and arms and pointy parts happily limp on his human pillow. And its like this, Vaan realizes he’s still wearing his clothes from the night before. Sans boots and a cheap knife he brought along for company. He must smell like the sewers. Musty. Sour. Damp. But Vayne doesn’t seem to mind. And you know, that should have been an undeniable warning sign on the mental state of said Imperial asshole, but Vaan is-

Vayne’s fingers tap against Vaan’s spine.

The air, the room gets fuzzy, dizzy, and Vaan forget that he still can, at any moment, get thrown into Nalbina.

There’s a loud knocking on the door before a stoutly man walks in with a silly, puffy hat. Accompanying him are three servants dressed in bland robes that should really ring a bell in Vaan’s memory. They couldn’t be the same servants he met in the palace’s basement, could they?

“Sire… Pardon me for the intrusion but I’ve have received an important message from Judge Ghis. It is news about the first round of interrogation. We have three prisoners willing to confess the plans for the attack of the palace and- ”

Then there is this horrible, _judgmental_ silence.

They all have the nerve to direct it to him as if he’s the _cause_ of it all.

Do they not see the bastard he’s sitting on!

“Oh… The attack on the palace.” Vaan plays it cool-like. Kinda. “That was like, yesterday, right? Good job, everybody. We- You got those evil terrorists. Uh… What do you call them?”

“The Insurgence.” The quiet bastard, Vayne, supplies as he loosens his grip from Vaan’s back.

The head servant quietly agrees with the rest continue to look at him like he’s done something terrible.

“Yeah… That. Hehehehe.” Why won’t they stop looking at him like that! He’s wearing clothes. There’s no proof of them doing the nasty! Shouldn’t they feel sorry for him to have been trapped with this cuddle-freak?

“It’s not what it looks like?” he gives up. “Stop whatever you guys are thinking! He took me against my will! I tried not to distract him! He wouldn’t let me leave.”

Damn. That didn’t sound right.

“Hmm, I have been dallying long enough, haven’t I?” Vayne sits up, Vaan sinks stiffly into his lap and hides his embarrassing face into Vayne’s chest because if he prays long enough, he’ll wake up right?

“Prep us a bath and find some clothes for him.”

“My clothes are perfectly fine. I’m probably not staying that long.”

“Ignore him.”

“Don’t ignore me.” Vaan hisses, fingers clutching Vayne’s night shirt.

“Okay.” Vayne turns to the gathered servants. “You have your orders. Dismissed.”

What. The way he said it… He did it on purpose!

The servants leave with faintly red faces and Vaan is free to backpedal some good and necessary inches from Vayne. “Was that funny for you? Hilarious?” Vaan snarls, because you can’t be afraid of anyone you were just cuddling with. “I am not your toy that you can use to get out of work. Please dismiss me.”

“Goodness no. I don’t return gifts. That’s impolite.”

“You’re impolite.” Vaan mutters, “Why the hell did your servants bust in here like that?”

“Language.” Vayne corrects, “And they had knocked about an hour ago but I didn’t respond to their calls. They were simply on edge from the rebel plot yesterday.”

“Fuck you.”

“At least, don’t talk like that in front of others.” Vayne amends, “You don’t want them to think even poorer about you.”

“I wouldn’t care what they thought if I was able to leave.” Vaan snaps, “You don’t need a lover! You said so!”

“Bed warmers are nice, aren’t they?” Vayne muses as he climbs out of bed. “I like my new bed warmer. It can talk and everything.”

“That really hurts, Lord Consul. I slept with you! Show me some respect.”

“I wonder how the people of Dalmasca are going to react to the news. The new Lord Consul, thief of their land, lives and liberties has taken a lover. I’m untouchable but you…”

Vayne collects the paperwork he left on the table and walks out of his private quarters. “You’re a nobody that wouldn’t be so hard to make disappear. I’ll be sure to take good care of your head when they deliver it separate from your corpse.”

“Come on!” Vaan is quick on his feet to follow.

“It’s not my fault that your people are petty.”

Vaan shouts as they enter the main hallway. “You’re the only one who's petty here!”

And unfortunately, everyone in the hallway hears him.


End file.
